Vertigo

September 8th I was invited to climb Mount Washington with three fellow experienced Mountain Rescue Members. While I had climbed non technical peaks, and I had climbed rock, and trained technical rescue rigging, this was my first try at a technical peak with such exposure.

I didn't realize how much of an impact this experience would have on me. This might not have been the spark that started my new found passion, but it did change my perception of that passion, and expanded my understanding of myself far greater than I thought possible.

I have never been so afraid in my life. I have never felt such a sustained sense of risk, and I have never grappled with the feeling of impending doom like I did that day. It started as a creeping feeling during a scramble on unstable rock and scree, with a fall having potentially fatal results, and continued to grow as I progressed in the climb. Once on the mild 5.3/4 first pitch, on rope, I did feel much better. However, after the first pitch, the focus I briefly had was left behind with the security of the rope that was left coiled at the anchor; the final 3 pitches were crumbly class IV scrambles with brief 10-20 foot pitches of low 5.x.

On several occasions I experienced vertigo -- the world around me spun, and I felt as if my inner ear was removed, rattled around in a can, and then put back upside down. The keen awareness that a single wrong step, or a failing hold would result in an ugly death grew within me, and caused me to fight the shakes. All I could think about was getting down to solid ground, but I knew I could only continue to climb upwards. Perhaps it was the strength of the climber I followed, or the opinions of the two Legends of Mountain Rescue climbing behind me, but I continued, as if a mechanical driving force was moving me upwards. I was a puppet of a subconscious self. I knew it was perfectly acceptable to stop wherever I felt, but I was physically unable to stop the motion forward.

I might sound like I was foolish, or allowing desire to summit, to accomplish this climb control me. I knew the consequences of a fall. I also knew that the climbing was within my abilities. I have climbed at a significantly higher level. It was the mental and emotional challenge that I faced that day. Even a sidewalk with a few thousand feet of exposure can make one feel uneasy. I instead realized that it wasn't anything but an inner strength overcoming fear. The power within my subconscious being was carrying me through. It took over my failing conscious self, it shouted at my insecurities, and allowed me to persevere. I focused on my next step, the next hold, and little else. I made my bubble of focus so narrow that I was able to refocus some.

I must admit I wasn't completely successful at controlling my thoughts, my racing mind, or my anxieties and fears. Through all my aviation training, skiing, climbing, biking, I have never directly faced obvious deadly consequences. The danger I was in was no more than traveling in a car, according to statistics. However there was no denying how much closer I felt to an untimely end.

Even though the act of climbing is enjoyable, and certain aspects of that climb did bring me joy, I wanted to return to safe ground with all my being. I felt joy at the summit, and just as much at the base of the mountain. It was strange to me, when after the climb I found myself staring at pictures, and planning my next climb. Why would I want to return to such an unstable place with such obvious peril? Is it our hard-wired need for facing death? Is it our stale offices, our creature comforts, our temperature controlled homes that cause us to push ourselves in this way? Could it be I craved returning to a place that narrowed my focus, and sharpened every experience? A few hours of vertigo, anxiety, exhaustion, suffering, and terror had created a new high water mark.

I wanted that sublime mix of triumph, focus, fear, and joy. It would take a missed attempt before I would find it again.